


Inferno

by taormina



Category: Take That (Band)
Genre: I'm Going to Hell, M/M, Rough Sex, Sexual Experimentation, Smut, Some Fluff, Whips, breath play, dominant!gary, mark tied to a bed, porn with a microscopically small plot, this is why I should not watch TT videos at 2:30 AM
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-11
Updated: 2015-08-11
Packaged: 2018-04-14 04:00:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4549593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taormina/pseuds/taormina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mark and Gary find old outfits and props from their previous performances of Relight My Fire. This is what happens next.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inferno

Gary found the clothes when going through his basement in search of an old keyboard he wanted to repair. It was the first keyboard he bought when Take That were starting to become a bit more popular, and the one he’d written the melodies of most of their hit songs on. It was a beauty of an instrument, but once he was able to afford a proper piano he never really used it anymore. It had only seen basements since.

When the shock of his discovery had died down, Gary was able to look at the collection of outfits and costumes properly. They were stacked away in two or three large boxes in the back of the basement, and almost every single garment was still in mint condition. It was a varied little bunch: as well as tight cycling shorts from their very first performances back in the nineties, the boxes contained freebie sneakers, a jumper that he recognized as being Mark’s, and more recent designs that Kim had had a hand in making.

Including, Gary discovered with a start, _those_ outfits from their comeback tour.

The ones he’d spent many nights fantasizing about.

_God_ , Mark’s arse looked good in those trousers. It still looked good _now_ , obviously, but those trousers were something else.

The outfits that Gary had worn in 2006 were a bit too big for him now, but the God awful fur coat for _Relight_ had always been too big for him anyway, and at least the black trousers – with a red stripe on the side for added effect – were more comfortable than they had been when he first tried them on years ago. Mark had naturally not gained or lost an ounce, so when he tried on his black latex trousers and a long, black jacket with red, upturned sleeves from the same tour the next day, they still fitted. Perfectly.

Even the silly devil’s horns still looked sexy on him (which were quickly torn from his head because they tended to get in the way), and that's how Mark suddenly found himself in his old _Relight My Fire_ outfit from 2006, tied to Gary's bed in his big apartment.

Discovering with a mix of glee and apprehension that the rope around his wrist had been tied really fucking tightly, Mark waited with bated breath for Gary's next move. They had never done this sort of thing before, and Mark suddenly remembered how _hot_ this outfit was. As in, he was burning up. Wearing latex trousers in front of a big wall of fire was bad enough; wearing it in _Gary’s bed on a hot summer night_ was even worse.

Mark could faintly hear the shuffling of bedsheets. The bed creaked when Gary got onto it. (Apparently Gary had still not bothered to buy a new bed in spite of his neighbours’ complaints that it creaked too much. Gary had lied to the old couple that he simply twisted and turned in his sleep a lot, and that he would try to get the bed oiled or something.)

His big fur coat smelled faintly of mothballs.

Mark had always had a thing for Gary’s outfit for _Relight._ Hell, they _all_ looked good on that tour: Gary looking like a successful pimp in his red coat; Jason’s strong arms wrapped up in wires, those sexy sunglasses on him; Howard . . .

Well, Dougie’s outfit was a bit shit, really, but at least his amazing body was on show so that’s something — and their scantily dressed dancers in their red bras and knickers, crawling over the floor like sexy seductresses. It was one big, choreographed orgy, and more than once had Mark sported a semi in the middle of a fucking live performance. It was _that_ sexy to him. (Gary had _not_ saved the pictures of that particular moment on his phone. Oh no. He did _not_ have a folder dedicated entirely to sexy photos of Mark, and he had _not_ inconspicuously named that folder “Every single version of _Your Song_ by Elton John”.)

One time it got so bad that Mark disappeared into a restroom at Wembley Arena or the Etihad or wherever they were at the time, and had a wank while he was supposed to get his big raincoat on for _Back For Good_.

The boys got very angry at him for nearly missing his cue that night.

Fast forward nearly ten years, and a gloved hand was suddenly on Mark's chin – gloves that Mark knew must be left over from another tour, even though he couldn’t for the life of him remember which one –, and Mark opened his mouth to allow two fingers to slip inside.

‘Suck,’ Gary demanded huskily, and Mark did so. Gary pushed his fingers in and out of Mark's throat a little more roughly than Mark would have expected, the tips of his fingers brushing Mark's tongue with every move. It tickled the back of his throat, almost making him gag. Excess saliva ran down Mark’s chin, but Gary kept going until he felt satisfied he'd prepared Mark's pretty mouth enough.

Mark could hear the sound of a zip being pulled down, and his heart did a little flutter. They normally didn’t move this fast; Gary must _really_ love seeing Mark in these old clothes . . .

Sure enough, a few seconds later Mark felt the familiar tip of Gary’s cock against his lips, and Mark hummed contently. He _loved_ sucking cock. He stuck out his tongue and licked, having only Gary’s grunts and the familiar taste on his tongue to guide him. Spurred on by the sounds that were escaping Gary’s lips, Mark opened his mouth a little further, wordlessly telling Gary to slip his cock into his mouth —  

His lover did so, and before long Gary's hands were in Mark’s hair, almost violently forcing him to bob up and down that thick shaft of his until Mark’s nose hit Gary's pubes.

Gary's thrusts into Mark's tight mouth were absolutely relentless, and unconsciously Mark started moaning along with his colleague, sending vibrations up Gary's shaft while he swallowed him whole.

‘Christ, Mark, you’re amazing,’ Gary groaned as his cock hit the back of Mark’s throat over and over, and Mark gave himself an imaginary pat on the back. Gary was _so_ easy to please.

Slowing down the pace, Gary rubbed his cock against Mark's left cheek. Mark had not shaved that day or the day before, and the sight of his puffed little lips framed between a canvas of facial hair was almost enough to push Gary over the edge. Mark really needed to start shaving less often. Not that he wanted Take That to become a three-bearded band, but _God_.

Mark was absolutely rock hard now, his erection painful against the tight fabric of his trousers. He tried to wriggle his hands free so he could give himself a good rub, but it was to no avail. 

‘Please, Gaz,’ Mark begged of Gary, ‘I need to be touched.’

‘ _Touched_?’ Mark could almost _hear_ Gary smile. Smug bastard. ‘D’you mean here?’

Gary ran a finger over Mark's clothed hard-on, causing Mark to arch his back. Doing so made the rope that was tied around his wrists even tighter.

‘Fuck, yes, Gary, please. _There_.’

‘Hmm.’ Gary squeezed Mark’s cock through his tight latex trousers. When Mark responded with a high-pitched whimper, Gary removed his hand immediately. ‘I'm not so sure about that, Marko.’

All of a sudden Gary's chapped lips were on Mark's. Mark moaned into the unexpected kiss and parted his lips so that Gary could stick his tongue down his throat. They half-sat, half-lay  there kissing like that for a while – Mark wishing _so_ hard he could wrap his arms around Gary's neck and pull him closer; Gary’s right hand on Mark's thigh teasingly while he bit Mark’s lower lip – until Gary pulled away, leaving a delicious scent of aftershave on the collar of Mark’s jacket.

Mark was panting heavily. ‘Kiss me again,’ he pleaded. His licked his lips. He tasted blood.  

‘No.’ Gary moved his mouth to Mark’s armpits and licked slowly, sending a strange tingle down Mark’s body.  

‘ _Please_ , Gary,’ Mark pleaded again. Gary's hand was dangerously close to his crotch again now. ‘At least let me see you.’

Gary pecked Mark's neck. ‘You've gotta earn it first.’

‘ _How_?’

‘I've . . . not thought about that,’ Gary admitted softly, breaking character a little. He couldn't quite remember what he and Mark had agreed upon beforehand. Gary had been adamant that they discuss their little adventure in case one of them got uncomfortable — or worse, tied to a bed forever! He did love a tightly-run show.

‘There's . . .  the _whips_?’ Mark suggested subtly.

Gary remembered. For some reason, Gary had also kept the whips from the Circus tour. He must’ve thought they would one day raise money for charity, which in hindsight was a rather strange idea. ‘Turn over,’ he said huskily, a half-arsed attempt at regained dominance.

‘I can't, I'm tied to the fucking bed, you dope. You've tied me up like I'm a goddamn boat or something.’

‘Soz.’

Gary expertly loosened the rope around Mark’s arms and effortlessly flipped him over so that Mark was now lying flat on his stomach, his head pressed into the mattress. Still blindfolded, Mark’s right arm crept down to his trousers — _God,_ all he needed was a good rub — he’d be hard for the rest of his life if he didn’t do something right now — only for his hands to be sharply pinned onto his back by Gary at the last minute.

Mark felt something being wrapped around his neck. His heart skipped a beat.

‘Who said you could touch yourself?’ demanded Gary, in a voice that didn’t belong to him.

_Oh_.

‘I – _Fuck_ , I’m sorry, Gary.’

Gary tightened the grip around Mark’s neck, and Mark cursed himself for being turned on by it. There was something so fucking sexy about trusting someone enough to let them manhandle you a little bit. The high of the cuddles and kisses afterwards was even better that way.

‘Let’s try that again, eh?’ said Gary. He sounded super turned on, too.

‘I’m — I’m sorry . . .?’ said Mark innocently, knowing full well what Gary demanded of him, but being too bloody aroused by the rope around his neck to give in just yet. Fuck, he loved it when Gary got all dominant and possessive. He wished he could see the look on Gary’s face now, all moody and sexy and just itching to fuck him into oblivion.

As expected, the rope was wrapped around Mark’s neck even tighter, causing a strange sort of tingle to start pulsing just south of his Adam’s apple.

He could still breathe — only just.

_Shit, this is sexy._

‘I didn’t quite hear that, Mark.’

‘I’m — sorry, Mr. Barlow,’ Mark said finally, and he released an involuntary sigh of relief when the rope left his neck and was tied around the hands on his back instead — but not before Gary swiftly rid Mark’s body of the black jacket that covered his upper body. He was now almost naked if not for his tight, ill-fitting latex trousers. He couldn’t wait to get them torn off of him and lie there, naked and blindfolded and tied up on Gary’s bed.

_He was tied up on Gary’s bed. Fucking hell._

Gary ran a finger down Mark’s spine, moving lower and lower until he reached the hem of Mark’s trousers. He had taken off his gloves. ‘Tell me how badly you want this,’ he groaned.

‘So badly, Gary, so badly.’

‘Mmm.’ Gary unzipped and then pulled down Mark’s trousers with great effort until they were in a heap on the floor. Mark hadn’t bothered to put on underwear that day.

‘ _Slut_ ,’ said Gary, and he spanked Mark’s arse lightly. Mark moaned, and wriggled his bare arse, and Gary repeated the gesture in return. Harder. Then two hands were on his arse at once, rubbing his cheeks and spreading them wide. Gary was spending an awfully long time doing this, and it seemed to Mark that Gary had gotten momentarily distracted. Mark wasn’t complaining, but hey, they _had_ dusted off their circus whips for a purpose.

‘Um.’ Mark said shyly. His hands were beginning to hurt. ‘Whips? Gary?’

‘Shit, right, sorry.’ Gary apologetically squeezed Mark’s arse and got off the bed. Mark could hear him huff and puff while he tried to get the hot fur coat off his shoulders — Gary did always hate that thing, and Mark made a mental note to remember to thank Gary for donning it one more time just for him.

The bed creaked again, and Mark’s heart rate increased. Despite Mark’s obvious arousal following the breath play and spanking, Mark and Gary usually didn’t do this sort of thing. Gary was content with traditional love-making – with the occasional “Howard’s gone off to have a fag; let’s bang on the mixing desk” added in – and Mark was okay with that. They didn’t have to get up to all sorts of weird theatrics in order to have amazing sex. (Note: their sex was always amazing.)

To know that Gary was now probably holding a whip in his hands was a deliriously good turn-on. Mark was his to take, completely and utterly.

‘You okay, Marko?’ Gary draped his heavier, stronger body over Mark’s and kissed the back of his neck. Mark could feel Gary’s erection rubbing his perk arse, causing Mark to release a shaky breath.

He wanted this so, so badly. Ever since he saw Gary use those whips in tour rehearsals back in 2009, Mark had been fantasizing about one day being subjected to Gary’s playthings every night.

Mark writhed into Gary’s embrace, every kiss and touch being elevated to transcendent levels of pleasure due to the lack of sight. Gary breathed in the scent of his hair, and Mark purred like a cat. ‘Yes, Gary, please.’

‘You sure?’ Gary whispered into Mark’s ear, the edge of his previous dominance having disappeared somewhat. Mark knew that deep down Gary was probably terrified of hurting him (he was always a bit of a worrier, Gary was), but Mark trusted him completely. They’d known each other for twenty-five years and had had an affair since the comeback; of _course_ Mark didn’t think Gary would hurt him. (And even if he did, well — it was not as though Mark didn’t have a strong penchant for biting and scratching . . .!)

‘Yes,’ said Mark finally, followed by a deliberate whimper. ‘Punish me, Mr. Barlow.’

‘Don’t tell me I didn’t warn you,’ said Gary, the sentence slick with obvious arousal, and he sat upright.

Mark could hear an unfamiliar sound. He braced himself — bit his lip — oblivious to what was going on around him due to the blindfold around his head — and twitched and groaned in pain when the tip of Gary’s whip hit his cheeks. The pain spread from his arse into the rest of his body, transforming into odd pleasure when it reached his crotch.

He begged Gary to do it again, and Gary did so.

‘God, that’s so good,’ Mark moaned into the mattress when Gary whipped him again. ‘ _Mmm_.’

Clearly enjoying himself, Gary repeated the motion — harder. A sharp pain shot through Mark’s lower body, and an “ow!” that Mark had been trying to suppress escaped his lips.

There was a soft _thud_ that Mark assumed was the whip being thrown on the floor, and all of a sudden Gary was licking and kissing Mark’s red arse.

_Gary was such a caring boyfriend, bless._

The soft sensation of Gary’s soft, thin lips against Mark’s skin was an immensely arousing feeling, the aching rawness of Mark’s skin heightening the tingle of Gary’s ministrations. It’s as though he could feel every peck and lick a hundred times more intensely, every tingle shooting straight towards his hard, abandoned cock.

Mark awkwardly writhed his crotch against the mattress, but it was not enough.

His arms and hands were _really_ aching now.

‘Please . . .’

A drop of saliva ran down Mark’s perineum, and Mark bit his bed sheets when a finger was pressed inside of him. Another finger was added, and soon Gary was pushing and twisting and turning his long fingers in and out of Mark’s hole until a moaning and writhing Mark was only vaguely aware of begging his bandmate to fuck him.

‘D’you know what,’ Gary teased, ‘I was thinking ‘bout maybe having a nap right about now.’

‘Just fuck me, you bastard,’ said Mark affectionately, and Gary didn’t need telling twice.

A piece of cloth was shoved into Mark’s mouth to stop him from waking up the neighbours with his incessant moaning and begging, and Gary pushed into him without warning. His left hand on the small of Mark’s back to stop his mate from rubbing his cock against the mattress, Gary thrust in and out hard, the tip of his cock hitting _that_ spot over and over.

They stayed in this position for five minutes or more, Gary teasingly slowing down his thrusts only to speed up again. The soft mattress underneath Mark’s cock gave little to no relief for the other desires that Mark had, and Mark moaned softly into the cloth in his mouth as he imaged Gary jerking him off in time with his pounding.

The bed was creaking so badly that Mark thought it might collapse under their weight.

Soon Gary’s movements were becoming unpredictable. Mark was turned back onto his back, his hands still painfully tied together. The cloth was removed from his mouth, and a pillow was shoved carelessly underneath his head. Then there was a loud groan, and a gasp escaped Mark’s mouth as he felt the unmistakeable sensation of hot, sticky cum painting his face and chest.

_Hot damn._

Mark licked the cum off his lips as best as he could and moaned contently when Gary’s mouth was on his again, removing the last traces of semen.

‘Christ, Mark, I love you so much,’ said Gary in between messy kisses. His hands moved to Mark’s cock then, and a mere six strokes later Mark arched his back and came, moaning loudly into Gary’s ear and repeating his lover’s words under his breath over and over.

‘C’mere, you.’ Gary lifted Mark up so that he was straddling his lap, and removed the blindfold and untied the rope. Upon having his hands untied, Mark immediately curled up into Gary’s embrace, and they comfortably sat there as one until their heart rates had decreased. Gary still had his clothes from the tour on; the black trousers, unzipped and pulled down just slightly; the black dress shirt with red frills, buttoned down so that his sweaty chest was visible.

Mark was completely naked, but he didn’t care; he was with Gary, and he was safe.

Gary was secretly wondering how to most discreetly get his cum-stained clothes to the dry-cleaner’s.

‘How was that?’ asked Gary finally, his fingers lazily stroking Mark’s sweat-covered back. His hair was messy. His cheeks had flushed a beautiful crimson. He looked as euphoric as Mark felt, even if his eyes betrayed a hint of worry for Mark’s wellbeing. He hoped he hadn’t been too hard on him. Naturally they had discussed what they both wanted to gain from tonight in great detail beforehand, but that didn’t stop Gary from worrying about Mark non-stop.  

Mark rested his head on Gary’s chest. Gary’s chest hair was pleasantly tickling his cheeks. ‘Very sexy.’

‘You all right though?’ said Gary earnestly. ‘No pain?’

A chuckle. ‘Apart from when you whipped me?’

Gary blushed and gave Mark’s arse a little pat. ‘Apart from that. And — um — your neck? With the — rope? I didn’t hurt you, did I?’

Mark shook his head. ‘I enjoyed that.’

‘Are you _sure_? Cos if —’

Mark kissed Gary on the mouth to shut him up and wrapped his arms around Gary’s body a little tighter. When the kiss came to a natural end a minute or so later, Gary looked even more flustered than he had before.

‘Stop _worrying_ about me, Gary,’ said Mark softly, and he pecked Gary on the forehead. ‘I’m _fine_. Just a sore arse, is all.’ When Gary didn’t look convinced, he added, ‘I can handle meself, you know. I’m a big guy.’

Gary raised his eyebrows as though saying “Well, you’re not wrong.”

The boys, still high on their respective orgasms, intimately helped each other get dressed into their normal clothes and exchanged sloppy kisses before Mark headed out of the door and went back to Wandsworth. James had kindly agreed to drive him home after the boys’ “writing session”, and 20 minutes later Mark dozed off contently on his own red leather sofa.

The next day, Gary decided to have another peek into the basement just in case he had overlooked the keyboard he was so badly looking for. A couple of minutes later, Mark received a text message:

_found more tour outfits and a podium that i didn’t know fitted in my basement. you don’t happen to have a presidents kink do you x_

— Mark: _I’ll be right over._

 

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is basically me procrastinating working on my 16k+ AU fic. It'll turn up ... eventually.


End file.
